


Retrace

by rudennotgingr



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Introspection, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 22:12:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2245170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudennotgingr/pseuds/rudennotgingr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tentoo and Rose revisit some of his memories, some painful...and some not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retrace

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic was something I wrote awhile ago for DW Fest. On tumblr I posted this as 13 separate chapters (one chapter for that day's prompt), but decided to just post the whole thing here. Because reasons. It's sort of long, but there are plenty of inserted breaks where it can easily be picked back up. Unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine.

The familiar grinding and groaning of the TARDIS dissipated, replaced by the waves gently rumbling over the shore. He tried not to dwell on the fact that he would never hear that sound again. His home for centuries...gone forever.

He focused instead on the hand that still fit perfectly in his. Well, why wouldn't it? Aside from a slight change in DNA making him a little less Time Lord and a bit more human, this body was the same he had changed into for her after she had absorbed the time vortex. After he had willingly given his life for her, regenerating with nothing but thoughts of a pink and yellow girl on his mind. So of course their hands still fit like they were made for each other.

Her eyes anchored him to the spot without caging him in. She didn't need to worry about him running. Not too far anyway. She was his home now. Had been for a long time if he was being honest with himself. He could see moisture shining in her eyes and he felt his single heart begin to crack. What if she was regretting her choice? What if she was angry with him? Chances are she was mad at _Him_. It was entirely possible she had simply acted on instinct, without thinking it all the way through. He was quickly becoming all too aware of how difficult it was to not act on impulse, the hormones and emotions crashing through his body without any logical walls or restraints to keep them in check.

The Doctor rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, a mirror of the way she had reassured him when he had first approached her as she broke their kiss (far too soon for his liking) to watch the TARDIS slip through the crack between universes. His motion was as much to comfort her as it was to comfort himself. His blue suit jacket felt too heavy on his shoulders, the loss of Oxford and tie not enough to break the walls between them. He swallowed roughly as she opened her mouth to speak several times, floundering for what to say.

"He'll be ok, yeah? With Donna?" She paused, a faint smile trying and failing to stay on her face. "The Doctor Donna."

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn't that. After everything, after leaving her behind...she was expressing concern for his well being. He felt pride surge in his chest. That was his Rose. His beautiful brilliant Rose. He wanted to kiss her. Again. Longer this time. But she had asked him a question. And a kiss was probably not the most appropriate answer.

He searched her face, her eyes watching him openly and earnestly. He could lie. Ease her worry about his other self. A self that was probably going to be a source of problems for them in enough other ways. And in a way it wouldn't be a _complete_ lie. Eventually he would be alright. He was always alright.

That's not how he wanted to start this life, this brand new start, with her. He couldn't do that to her. Not after all she had gone through with him and to get back to him. Guilt at even considering telling her anything other than the truth churned unpleasantly in his stomach. He licked his lips, the salty tang bursting on his new taste buds.

Squeezing her hand, he looked at her intently and spoke softly, "No."

"No? But...I thought..." she furrowed her brow in confusion, fighting back tears.

"He's going to be alone.” He paused, letting the information sink in and hoping he was doing the right thing by being completely honest. He tilted his head and smiled sadly. “You know how he...I...we get when alone."

"But what about Donna?" Rose shook her head, her blonde hair ruffling around her shoulders.

The Doctor took a deep breath, no point in holding back now. "Going home. She won't be able to retain all that knowledge. All that Time Lord packed into a tiny human brain. She can't survive it...he'll have to wipe her memory. She won't be able to remember anything about me. Him. Us...whatever. And before you even ask,” he rushed on, squeezing her hand in what he hoped was reassurance, “I'll be fine. I promise. I'm still mostly Time Lord. Not sure how much, I'll have to find out. Point is, I'm different. Special. Unique." He clicked his tongue and grinned at her, but his face fell when he caught her horrified expression.

"Does she know?" she choked out.

"Oh.” He blinked, considering the situation carefully. “Um, I imagine she will realize what will have to happen as soon as he broaches the subject. She'll see it coming."

"But she won't get a choice will she?" There was an underlying harshness to her tone that made him narrow his eyes.

"Rose, if he doesn't wipe her memory, she will burn. She'll die,” he hissed, irrational anger sparking along every nerve. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. This wasn’t Rose’s fault. Or Donna’s. It was fate and the cruelty of the universe. He opened his eyes and focused on Rose, willing her to understand. “I...he can't let that happen to his best friend. Not when there is a way to save her. And she'll be in good hands with her granddad. He already knows how brilliant she is."

"But she's the most important woman in the universe,” she insisted, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

Quite frankly, he disagreed. He was staring at the most important woman right now. And her name wasn't Donna Noble. He turned, reaching up with his free hand to cup her cheek and brush away the tear with his thumb. His heart stuttered in his chest as she leaned into his touch. Again, timing was not on his side. "The universe won't forget her. But I can understand if you're mad at him for--"

"I'm not mad at him, not really.” She interjected, her voice soft yet firm. “And I'll never forget her either.” She moved her hand to cover the one he still rested on her face, wiggling her fingers between his own so that they laced together. A slow smile crept over her features as she gazed up at him, this time it was genuine and reached her eyes. He couldn’t help but grin in response, still in awe at the fact that they were here, together. All doubt as to whether or not she truly wanted to be with him washed away as she whispered in the small space between them.

“They gave me you."

.....

The warm presence filled his mind, mixing perfectly with the pleasant emotions invoked by the memory it had just pulled to the surface. Despite all the uncertainties that had seemed to overwhelm his mind that day spent on Bad Wolf Bay, a place only associated with deep scarring pain, he now felt at peace. He looked on that day with a fondness he knew Rose would never completely share. While it no longer haunted her dreams and she was forever in awe that they could spend the rest of their lives together...she had still lost _Him_.

In the days immediately following his arrival in Pete’s World, the mere thought that Rose grieved over the loss of the Doctor when he, _the Doctor_ , was right here in front of her was enough to send him into a fit of jealousy. He never did get along with himself very well. It was a constant sore spot for his new relationship with Rose. Try as he might to tamp down the anger swirling inside him, he could never keep it fully in check, his gob running away before his mind had a chance to keep up.

When his insecurities were finally what came to light, instead of low blows and snide comments, they were able to move on. He was afraid that without the TARDIS, he would never be enough for her. That she would spend the rest of her life wishing she had chosen the full Time Lord version instead. As she so kindly had pointed out to him, he was a right git. She would always miss the other him, just as she always missed her first Doctor. But that didn’t mean she loved him any less. The TARDIS wasn’t the reason she had fallen for him in the first place, she wasn’t about to stop loving him now that they didn’t have it.

A soft tutting sound echoed in his head. He sent the presence in his mind a quick apology. He wasn’t supposed to be the one in control right now. Forcing himself to relax and simply be an observer in his own thoughts, he waited for what would come next.

.....

They had to be stopped. There was nothing else for it. They always, _always_ survived while he lost everything. Even though he knew he should find another way...some hot coal of bubbling rage in the pit of his stomach kept burning the same series of thoughts in his mind. All the things they had taken from him and all the things they would take from the universe.

He couldn't allow it. Not this time. No, today the Daleks would pay for every crime they had committed all across time and space. For every civilization wiped from the sky. For every life cut short. For every moment that could have been spent with Rose at his side.

It wasn't until after snapping at Donna that he noticed he was already in the process of sending the Daleks to their demise. Anger and the need for revenge seemed to have taken control over his body, guiding his actions without consulting his brain. No matter. He would have come to this conclusion anyway. He let the rage flow through his fingers, gave himself over to the more human part of himself. The part that echoed the darkness that had always lurked beneath the calm, collected Time Lord exterior. The Oncoming Storm yearning to break free.

His other self dashed back out of the TARDIS, demanding to know what was going on in an almost comical sense of outrage. After all, they were the same. A slight alteration of genetic make up didn't change that. The Daleks would have never negotiated...he would have been forced to do the same.

He tore his gaze away from the blinding explosions and collapsing metal, turning to face his other self. The words rolled effortlessly off his tongue, his threatening tone daring his other self to argue with his choice, "Fulfilling the prophecy."

.....

His body had stiffened as the memory of the last moments of the crucible played in his mind. He felt the anger surge through him, as if it were actually happening. He wasn’t proud of his actions, he would never take joy in ending lives. No matter how much they deserved it. That didn’t mean he regretted his choice by any means. It had been the right thing to do, and he would do it again if the need ever arose. On instinct, the doors in his mind that opened to the events prior to staying with Rose in Pete’s World slammed shut. He sat, tense and incredibly still. Waiting.

The presence in his mind didn’t judge him. On the contrary, it sent rippling waves of comfort and understanding that washed away the rage bit by bit, replacing it with a soothing sense of peace. The outsider didn’t linger either, anxious to move on and knowing he would be grateful if they did. Now wrapped in calming warmth, he relinquished control of his thoughts once more.

.....

He was vaguely aware of a brilliant golden light. Wait, hold on. Gold? That wasn’t right. A Dalek’s ray was more of a blueish color. Perhaps a pale blue. Sort of. Point was, it was no where near golden. He couldn’t feel his limbs. Well, no. That wasn’t quite right either. He could feel his hand, just his hand. His right hand to be exact. What was with that hand? This was an unusual outcome. What kind of bloody Dalek had he been shot by?

A tingling sensation spread from his hand to his shoulder, then across his chest. It continued up to his head and over to his other arm before creeping down, all the way to his toes. He wracked his brain for what had happened prior to losing consciousness. He had been running in the street, faster than he had ever ran in any of his lives. His long legs making him fly across the pavement. There was a blurry mental image of a Dalek...and then being shot. Tripping and spinning before collapsing on the pavement as pain coursed through him.

Definitely had been shot then. So why was he feeling a warm fuzzy sensation instead of pain. Shouldn’t he be regenerating? Already regenerated perhaps...another memory burst through the surface. The reason for him tearing through the street. A face, framed in muted gold, hovering above him as he lay dying on the concrete.

Rose.

The Doctor sat up with a jolt, then hopped to his feet. He froze. Something was wrong. Again. He was in the TARDIS, which wasn’t overly alarming. However...the time ship appeared to be on fire and he was receiving waves of distress through their telepathic link as she shook violently around him. More to the point, Rose was no where to be found. All this ran through his head at lightening speed, just as his eyes landed on Donna, crouched on the grating and staring at him with wide eyes.

"It's you!" she breathed in relief, following up with a smile.

"Oh, yes,” he replied confidently, tilting his head. Had she been expecting someone else? The fact that he should have regenerated popped back into his mind. Maybe he had and he just hadn’t realized it? Did he? Could he? Was that possible?

Donna’s eyes flitted down his body, then immediately flew up and the smile slipped from her face. That was odd. Since when did she start doing _that_? She looked from side to side, anywhere but at him.

"You're naked,” she pointed out, her voicing rising in pitch.

A split second internal check alerted him that he was in fact, completely starkers. Well, that was new.

"Oh, yes." The words slipped out almost of their own accord. There was no point in denying it after all.

There was something else still tickling the edges of his mind. Something still… _wrong_. There would be time to sort the odd feeling later. If he didn’t save them now, there wouldn’t be a later. With a quick glance at the readings flashing on the display and a mental urging of the TARDIS, he flung himself towards the console. Gritting his teeth he mashed a button as the time ship dematerialized, heading to the safety of empty space.

.....

There was a tinkling laughter bouncing around his mind. Giggling? Really? He snorted and the presence only laughed more. He gave the outsider the mental equivalent of a playful poke in the ribs and made it clear that he was pouting. While he hadn’t been particularly embarrassed that Donna had seen him completely starkers, he still didn’t find it funny. Or fair. That should have been Rose. Although...if it had been Rose chances were he would have been too distracted by trying to get her to match his state of undress to save the TARDIS in time. Small favor from the universe.

With more unapologetic laughter, the presence flew from one memory to the next, skipping further ahead.

…..

“If you want,” the Doctor murmured the last bit, seemingly as an after thought with a shrug of his shoulders and pout of his lip. But it was arguably the most important part of what he had said so far.

Yes, assuring her that he was the Doctor, the same man, was vital information. How could he expect her to be with him if she didn’t understand that he was the _same_ man. The fact that the two men standing before her were identical was the obvious bit. But it wasn’t just the same outward appearance. The same thought process mapped out his brain, always leading back to her. The same memories of all their times together filled his mind. The same emotions burned in his veins, the overwhelming love he felt for her bursting in his now solitary heart.

Yes, being part human was important for her to know. The one heart that pounded solidly in his chest, the single beat a painful reminder of how inadequate Rose might view him now, was the greatest change in his anatomy. One small difference that made a huge change. The matching life spans was a huge advantage. But would it be enough? He wasn’t fully Time Lord...and he had no TARDIS of his own. If she chose him, she would no longer be able to travel the stars. He could no longer give her what she deserved, all of time and space at her fingertips.

Yes, offering her his forever, his own hollow echo of the promise she had made him oh so long ago, was also important. It was something usually beyond his comfort zone. Relationships...settling down...domestics. But this was Rose Tyler, _she_ was his comfort zone. He was all too aware that he had basically proposed to her. Oh, he hoped that one day he would get the chance to properly do it, the human way. Not because she would expect it of him, but because if she would give him this chance then he was going to seize it, taking every opportunity to give her the things he had thought he never could.

Adding the if you want, letting her know it was her choice, was by far the most important. He knew that time after time, he had ripped the decision making process out of her hands without her consent. It had always been in the best interest of her safety. It had always been at the sacrifice of his own happiness, never wanting her to have to choose between him and everything else she held dear. But he was also smart enough to know that it hadn’t been fair. He refused to do the same thing again. He was here for her...but only if she wanted. He wanted her, needed her, loved her...but he would only be with her if that was what she truly wanted.

He had taken so many choices away from her already, he wouldn't take this one.

Anxiety crashed through him as she stared up into his eyes, her own clouded with tears. He longed to reach out and take her in his arms, whisper in her ear that everything would be alright. But he didn’t dare move. His throat felt dry and the doubt that she would even consider staying with him grew louder and louder in his mind.

”You’ll gr-grow old at the same time as me?” Rose asked, disbelief and hope warring in her voice.

”Together,” he responded quickly. He had never been more nervous about anything in all of his lives. The fate of his existence resting in the hands of a human, his heart bared for her to see and do with as she deemed best.

.....

The presence jerked out of the memory, a sense of unease burning through his mind. He knew why. After all...he knew what had happened next. Before he could react, before he had the chance to convey any sort of reassurance, the outsider was flying through his thoughts...racing headlong into a different memory.

.....

“Just, just wait for the Doctor,” Donna urged him.

His head snapped up, fire burning in his eyes. Hundreds of thousands of possibilities and uncertainties flashed rapidly through his mind, as rage directed at the Daleks and what they always became coursed through his veins.

He wasn’t sure how much his DNA had been altered, that would have to be tested later. However, he could list the few things he was certain had been affected by the change, all centered around his singular beating heart. Shorter life span...no regeneration. One life. He knew that he was still mostly Time Lord. All the same thoughts, same feelings, same memories...same everything etched permanently into his mind.

He wasn’t sure how much Donna had been affected by the metacrisis. Yes, she was brilliant, but she had always been that. Only, it was something that she was just now seeing in herself. All the knowledge he had constant access to was now at her fingertips. An unsettling feeling sat in the back of his mind. A Time Lord-human metacrisis was one thing...but a human-Time Lord metacrisis? He wasn’t sure how that would end, but he wasn't liking the direction his thoughts were heading.

He wasn’t sure what was going to happen in regards to Rose, what with there being two of him now. As if their relationship wasn’t complicated enough as it was. She had fought tooth and nail to get back to him, and here he was...throwing a wrench into what she had probably expected to happen. Anger at himself, even though none of this was his fault, flared next to his rage at the Daleks. No matter what happened, he knew one thing would never change. No matter what form he took, he would always love her.

He wasn’t sure destroying the Daleks was what would be deemed as the _right_ decision. But he knew it was the best decision at the moment. He couldn’t let them live, knowing that they would only find another way to destroy as much of the universe as they could reach, starting with planet Earth.

Through all the chaos swirling in his mind, there was one thing that he was absolutely irrefutably certain of.

Eyes still flashing dangerously, he began turning turning knobs while staring Donna down and growled out, “I _am_ the Doctor.” 

.....

As he watched the words, “I am the Doctor”, spew from his mouth like venom, more bite and harshness than he intended, the scene faded before his eyes. Memories flew past as the presence zoomed back to the very beginning.

…..

There was always bound to be one human daft enough to find themselves in the middle of danger. They just couldn’t leave well enough alone. But she was young and vulnerable, and something about her called to even the darkest corners of his soul. If he still had one. He may be ready to die, but he couldn’t just leave her there to do so.

Snaking along the wall, he sidled next to her as she wrenched her eyes shut and turned her blonde head away from the encroaching mass of autons. His hand fumbled for a moment, not used to this sort of contact, to get a steady grip on her smaller hand. Her eyes snapped open, wide hazel orbs staring at him in a mixture of shock and terror. A smile, born of adrenaline and a strange warmth spreading from his hand tucked around hers, bloomed across his face. He was certain there was more than a hint of madness in his sharp blue eyes as he whispered one word.

“Run.”

…..

A sharp flash of pain shot through his arm as the blade sliced cleanly through flesh and bone. But that was it. Just one brief surge of discomfort, which was fortunate given the circumstances. He watched in horror as his hand fell through the clouds, landing Rassilon knew where in London far below. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to properly know that hand. He didn’t even really know what his face looked like at the moment. He’d been busy. Well, busy and unconscious.

Renewed anger bubbled in his blood as he looked back at the attacker. Oh, was that poor Sycorax going to be in for a shock once he got back on his feet. Regeneration had it’s perks. In a matter of moments, he would have a new hand. A fighting hand.

…..

The next few memories were a blur, glimpses of himself glimpsing himself. As if that were a normal occurrence…Well, if you counted regenerations looking at other regenerations then yes. But this, this was _different_.

Martha pulling his severed hand out of Jack’s bag, all the way at the edge of the universe. At least he had retained enough decency to put in a suitable bio container.

Watching himself...er, his hand...bubble with energy while he tried to pilot a violently shaking TARDIS, with Martha haltingly relaying the story of his handy spare hand to Donna in the background.

And then the moment things went careening off track. Or on track, depending on how you looked at them. The moment things got a little bit fuzzy...the partial regeneration and literally becoming a hand floating in a jar.

Until Donna. Until destiny pulled tight the threads weaving everything together, closing everything in place and creating...well, creating him.

He had told Donna he loved that hand, with a goofy grin and wiggle of the fingers of said hand. Which, depending on the circumstance, was mostly true.

In that instant, closing the distance she had put between them after breaking their kiss to chase after the vanishing TARDIS...in that small, quiet, eternal moment as she brushed her thumb over his, the way she had done so many times before they were torn apart, he couldn’t help but stare at the small miracle of their fingers twining together once more.

For the first time in all his lives, the universe was being kind.

.....

The outsider pulled out of the memory, calmer than they had been before. But there was an underlying current of some other familiar emotion, something he had witnessed first hand from them before...and that he recognized within himself. Curiosity.

He frowned trying to gauge where the shyness and uncertainty was coming from. Ah, it was a topic they had wondered about many times before, yet were always too unsure as to how to start the conversation. With nothing to hide, he gave the presence a small mental nudge in the right direction.

…..

Donna, a human who on the surface appeared to be the complete opposite of Rose...brash and self centered, had turned him down. Yet she had told him he needed to find someone.

He had found someone, he thought bitterly. The _perfect_ someone. And she had been ripped away. He wasn’t sure which haunted him more, the desperate look in her eyes as she fell toward the void or the shattering of her heart as he confirmed her worst fears, there was no way to get to her.

It was all too much. He had loved her so deeply, so fiercely, and had never acted on it. Content to keep her at arms length away, he was left with nothing but regret. Regret and heartache that threatened to consume him and swallow him whole.

Was it any wonder he had nearly drowned himself in the Thames?

He was on edge, reckless. Throwing himself into the next adventure, much like he had done when _She_ had first met him. With leather and piercing blue eyes.

Blue.

That was it. He needed a change. Something different. Something that wasn’t a constant reminder of what he had lost. Something that didn’t reek of chips and her perfume. Something that didn’t have her golden tresses snagged in his sleeve from where she had been constantly resting her head.

Martha Jones entered his life as he was on a slow, downward spiral. The blue suit a different shield of armor when everything became too much. When he was willing to risk his life for anything and not take the extra 30 seconds to find an alternative solution.

He had almost lost his life to a Plasmavore, Daleks, and an outraged physic sun when that suit had been involved. And that would have been more than alright with him, regeneration or not.

The Family of Blood and hiding away as a human for nearly three months was an eye opener. He had been immensely unfair to Martha, punishing her for simply not being Rose. And the fact that he had considered, as a human, to start a life with someone other than Rose made his skin crawl and his stomach churn. He was angry at himself for being lost without her, angry at the Family for those they had killed and what they had forced him to do.

He showed them what kindness now meant to the last of the Time Lords. He vowed to try and be better, to live the way Rose would have wanted him to. It wasn’t going to be easy, with her loss still burning in his hearts, but his first step was steering clear of the blue suit and the madness it seemed to serve as a catalyst for.

Then came the Master.

He was stuck in that brown suit for a year. Watching his age old friend rip and tear apart everything left that he held dear. The people of planet Earth suffering on his behalf, while he could only watch. Helpless.

Once the Master was taken care of, another life staining his hands bright red in blood, he couldn’t wait to get out of the bloody thing.

But then Martha had decided not to stay. And his brooding had been cut short by a space cruise liner crashing into his TARDIS. He had worn his tux for that debacle. Losing more lives than he had saved. Maybe all his suits were cursed.

Maybe it was him.

Deciding he was best off alone, he forced himself back into the brown suit and soldiered on. That’s how Donna found him. Alone and closed off. No longer overly crazed with grief, but now numbed by it.

She helped heal him in her own way. Not in the same way Rose had. But she helped. Which made him feel a twinge of guilt, even though he knew he shouldn’t. But he felt uncomfortable enough to need a change in attire. Back to the blue.

It became a push-pull, a constant back and forth as to which suit he felt most comfortable in. A struggle between the man he once was and the man he strived to be.

It was fate that Rose found him again while he was wearing the brown suit, the one he had been wearing when he lost her.

When he snatched the blue suit up quickly while he and Donna were in the TARDIS, he didn’t give any thought as to brown versus blue. The blue had become as much a part of him as the brown. And at the moment, his only thought was finding proper attire. Fighting off Daleks wasn’t best done in your birthday suit.

It wasn’t until the TARDIS faded out of existence that he caught on to fate’s cruel joke. Well, cruel to the other him at any rate. The Doctor wearing brown was losing Rose Tyler for a second time.

He decided then, that he rather quite liked blue.

.....

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last.

They had been dancing around each other for weeks. Each time progressing just a bit farther, just a bit closer to what he knew they both wanted. But each time, one of them always backed off with some reason as to why they should stop.

Seeing as how he was still mostly Time Lord, he was able to mentally suppress his body’s natural reaction to their activities with a bit of concentration. At first. It was becoming increasingly difficult, the overwhelming amount of human hormones and intense urges seeming to multiply ten fold every time it happened. Leaving him just a bit more frustrated (not with her, obviously) and tad more desperate the next go round. He was near ready to start begging. He had also considered just having a good wank to help release some of the sexual tension constantly coiled tightly within, ready to burst at her lightest touch. But he was afraid that it would somehow only make things worse. That, and some sense of stupid determination that the first time he did _that_ in this body would only be at the hands of Rose Tyler.

And now here he was, sitting on the couch in their shared flat, with Rose straddling his lap and her tongue stroking insistently against his own.

He could taste the tea she had drank half an hour before, in an effort to relax and get ready for bed, and the hormones bursting in her system as she rolled her hips over the erection straining against his trousers. He doubted bed would be on the agenda anytime soon for either one of them.

Her flowery shampoo from that morning mingled with the scent he had come to identify as _aroused Rose_ in a way that drove him half mad with want. The telly had become unimportant background chatter as he focused on her labored breathing, punctuated with gasps and moans from the both of them.

He was acutely aware of every placed they touched, her hot skin burning him even through their layers of clothing. Her hands raked through his hair, interspersed with sharp tugs that elicited deep growls that rumbled in his chest. His fingers cradled her head and mapped out the skin of her back, as he slipped a hand beneath her shirt.

They had been going like this for a solid twenty minutes and he was embarrassingly close to coming in his pants. But the way her breasts brushed against his chest, sending all sorts of images running through his mind, he could tell from that alone that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Not that he had been staring all evening. Much. His hand under her shirt confirmed his much earlier conclusion as it slid higher and higher up her back without meeting resistance. Her soft lips moving in perfect tandem with his own, their tongues tasting and exploring sent wave after wave of desire rolling through him.

And the movement of her hips. Sweet Rassilon, _her hips_. The momentum and the pressure, It was like she was actively trying to make him come undone. His pelvis jerked upward of it’s own accord, automatically meeting her rhythm as he frantically hoped this was feeling just as good for her. The clenching of her thighs and growing erratic thrusts of her hips was leading him to believe he was succeeding. But he had to be sure.

“Rose,” he panted, breaking the kiss and thinking how useful his respiratory bypass would be just about now.

“Hmm?” she hummed against his skin as she placed hot, open mouth kisses across his jawline.

“I’m… _fuck_...Rose, unless--”

She cut off his protest by sucking hard on his bottom lip, sending a shiver down his spine. Pressing her forehead to his, she shook her head. “I’m close,” she breathed.

His eyes widened in shock. They were finally going to do this...and they weren’t even doing it properly. There were too many layers, and while the friction they were creating was clearly working for them both, it was not what he had imagined his first orgasm with her would be like. Yet, it was so completely them.

He kissed her roughly, moving the hand down her back to help guide her hips. And when they came, grinding and shuddering against each other, hands fisting in soft hair and coarse fabric, mouths swallowing simultaneous moans of pleasure...it was perfect.

Turned out, the initial release was all they needed to move forward.

Ten minutes later, Rose was pinned on the couch beneath him with her legs wrapped around his waist, her knickers dangling from one ankle. His shirt and her sleep shorts had been quickly discarded to some forgotten location around the room. His trousers and pants were shoved down to his knees and her shirt was bunched up above her breasts as he sucked a nipple into his mouth and pounded into her with a renewed need to feel her shatter, this time around him.

Years of buildup and over sensitized nerves from their activity minutes before, had them both rushing at lightening speed towards a second climax. His imaginations hadn’t done her justice and her inner walls, hot and wet, tightening around him as she cried out his name was all it took for him to tumble after her into blissful oblivion.

Gasping for breath and finding himself with a faceful of Rose boobs, he tried to calm his body’s immediate reaction.

“Again?” she asked, her voice raspy and disbelieving.

He looked up at her with a slightly sheepish grin, relieved to find her eyes still shining with love and desire. His smile widened and he propped himself up on his elbows, waggling his eyebrows. “I feel I should remind you, Miss Tyler, I’m still mostly Time Lord. But if you can’t keep up…”

“I think you’ll find,” she responded, rocking her hips and making him groan, “That I am the only person in existence that can.”

His face softened, needing her to understand. He pressed a kiss to her sternum before gazing back into her eyes and beginning to move slowly above her. “I’d want only you, even if you couldn’t.”

.....

When this had started, he had agreed to stay silent. He was only to convey subtle feelings and brief thoughts. But with the rapid shift from memories about his suit choices to the first time he and Rose made love, no explanation given, he could no longer remain quiet.

_That wasn't part of the arrangement_ , he thought carefully.

_Are you embarrassed?_ , the presence teased and he could imagine the hint of tongue peeking out from her smile.

He snorted. _Hardly. Just wondered why, is all. You said up to Bad Wolf Bay. Specifically, between my er, creation and Bad Wolf Bay._.

_I know. But...I wanted something happy before...the rest_.

_Rose, it's not that I-_

_I know._

With more force than he was expecting, the conversation was cut off as a she pulled forth another memory. A painful one, for them both.

.....

Instead of soft lips pressing firmly against his own, faint tendrils of blonde hair tickled his nose and his mouth as Rose whipped her head around. He knew without a doubt what the cause for her abrupt ending of the kiss was a result of.

The sound of the TARDIS dematerializing. Leaving this beach, this planet, this universe.

Forever.

She broke free of his embrace, his arms dropping limply from around her waist. He was in shock and he couldn't help the initial sting of rejection. His heart sank to lay somewhere in the sand, his thoughts tumbling around his head without any sort of order.

Should he have fought to keep a hold of her?

Did this mean she had changed her mind? That she had wished she had picked the other him?

Panic began to tighten his chest and his throat went dry.

Would he be able to adjust to life without the universe at his fingertips if she didn't really want him?

Should _he_ have argued for them to all stay on board the TARIDS?

Should he go after her?

_Yes_.

A slow understanding seeped into his thoughts as she came to a stop in front of the fading outline of what had been his home for the 900 years. While he was standing right behind her...to Rose, he was also leaving her behind. Again.

He needed to remind her that she hadn’t been left alone. That he hadn’t abandoned her. She was his whole world, his everything. As he walked to where she stood he knew, no matter what the circumstances were, he would always go after her.

.....

To his surprise, Rose wasted no time in skipping from holding hands on Bad Wolf Bay to just a few minutes before, where his life was literally at her mercy. Not for the first time he wondered why she was hopping randomly around his memories, instead of starting from the beginning and just playing it forward.

He didn’t get the chance to ask.

…..

“Does it need saying?” the other Doctor choked out, his eyes misted over.

Rose’s face was an obvious mixture of hurt and disbelief. He felt torn. He was angry at the other him for inflicting that sort of pain on the most important person in the universe. But he also knew what was going through the other Doctor’s mind. He knew how intensely his hearts were breaking to say those four words, instead of the three stuck in his throat. They were the same man after all.

“And you, Doctor? What was the end of that sentence?” Rose asked, turning her hazel eyes to him.

His heart was beating rapidly in his chest as he fought to remain calm on the outside. Everything up to now had led him to believe that Rose didn’t truly believe that he was the _exact_ same man when he very much was in fact. Well, maybe not _exactly exactly_.

Her eyes searched his face as he leaned forward, trailing his fingers down her upper arm before gently squeezing her elbow.

Whispering in her ear the one difference between him and the other Doctor, _I love you_ rolling off his tongue as easy and emotion packed as when he had said her name, he hoped it would be enough.

He tilted away from her, watching her face as intently as she had done to him seconds before. He fought against the nerves jittering wildly in his veins, praying to every god he didn’t believe in that he wouldn’t need to drown himself in the ocean because she had turned him down. What was a human life, if it wasn’t going to be spent with Rose Tyler?

A moment that seemed to stretch to the ends of time itself passed by before her fingers curled around the lapels of his suit jacket. He felt himself being pulled towards her with the unyielding force of falling towards a black hole. Her lips crashed against his, their noses pressed snugly into each other’s cheeks and his eyes fell shut as pure bliss washed over him. Her love hit him with such overwhelming intensity that he couldn’t move. The other people standing around them fell away, his thoughts narrowing to the one who mattered the most.

Her hand found the back of his head, the pressure sparking something within him that made his body snap into response. He gave in to his wants and emotions completely, wrapping his arms tightly around her and pulling her close so that there was no longer any space between them. Their bodies molded together as her arms encircled his shoulders, one of his hands sliding up the smooth leather of her jacket to rest between her shoulder blades, her soft blonde hair brushing over his fingers.

He could feel her heart beating just as rapidly as his where their chests were pressed together, the echoing beat making him feel like he had two hearts again. Her lips were soft and tasted of the salt of the sea. The combination of loving her afar for years and this body’s lack of hormonal control was building in a steady crescendo that he didn’t think he would be able to stop even if he wanted to.

He could live in this moment for the rest of this life, never wanting it to end.

.....

_Sorry_ , Rose thought, sending him waves of comfort as she pulled them out of the memory. He could feel the regret she was fighting to keep to herself.

_Don’t be_ , he assured her. He knew why she was apologizing, they had already revisited the memory of how that particular kiss had ended. With her running away from him and chasing a life she had hoped to return to as it faded out of existence. While at the time he had felt hurt and jealousy, he had long since moved past that. He understood why she had reacted that way, and couldn’t blame her if he was being honest with himself. _You have nothing to be sorry for, love._

_You promise?_

_Cross my hearts. Er, heart, rather. But I’d cross both if I could._

Her laughter filled his mind and he couldn’t help but smile. A year later and he still sometimes forgot that only one heart beat in his chest.

…..

“Spanners. Shush.” The Doctor bobbed his head in front of Donna, trying to figure out what the hell was going on with this new body. “I must have picked up a bit of your voice, that's all. Is it? Did I? No. Oh, you are kidding me.”

How could he be so thick? How had he missed _this_? This was huge, colossal, enormous. And _wrong._

“No way. One heart. I got one heart.” He placed a hand on his chest, over the singular beat thudding in the empty space but quickly broke the contact, leaving his hand hovering in the air between him and Donna. His face twitched, torn between disbelief and the almost painful sensation of the hollow beat echoing in his rib cage. “This body has got only one heart.”

“What?” Donna asked in confusion, her eyes darting between his face and his chest. She raised a hand to rest on the blue fabric of his suit where his had been seconds before. “What, like you’re human?”

“Oh, that’s disgusting,” he said, pulling a face. He had survived a direct hit from a Dalek and cheated his way out of a regeneration only to come back as a human. How bloody rubbish was that?

“Oi!” she shouted and he couldn’t help but yell it at her in unison. She yanked her hand away. “Stop it!” Her body was vibrating with irritation, and he wasn’t sure if it was from his offhanded insult or the unclear explanation as to where he came from. Both. Probably both.

“No. Wait.” He did another quick internal scan of his systems and came up with a result that was a surprise even to himself. “I’m part Time Lord...part human.” He stared at Donna with wide eyes as her mouth fell open.

The thought of what was going to happen between him and Rose...well, him, Rose, and the other him, had been playing on constant repeat in the back of his mind. Even with the impending Dalek fleet, how could it not? Being a mixture of both was more than likely going to make things worse and more confusing. Of course the universe wouldn’t make this easy. He met Donna’s eyes, sarcasm coloring his next words, “Well, isn’t that wizard?”

.....

_You really thought it would make things worse?_ Rose asked as she let the memory of his self discovery at being part human fade into the background.

_Well, you weren’t exactly...thrilled about the idea. Wait, no. That’s not quite right. More that I thought you didn’t want me because being part human made me less, well, less me._

_That’s not it at all._

_I know that now. But at the time, I thought my stupid human heart was going to make or break me...only without make being a viable option._

_I do recall your heart beating rather quickly,_ she teased, moving past his old doubts instead of dwelling on them. Not for the first time, he wondered how he had gotten so lucky to have her.

_What exactly are you implying, Miss Tyler,_ he teased right back, an almost drawl enunciating the last syllable even in thought.

_I’m not implying anything. I’m going to show you exactly what I mean. And it’s not ‘Miss’ anymore. Or have you forgotten already,_ she paused and his heart skipped a beat in anticipation, _Mr. Tyler?_

Before he could list all the ways he would never forget or do an exact recount of the day’s earlier events, she brought another memory zooming to the forefront of his mind.

…..

"Together," the Doctor reassured her without hesitation, despite the frantic beating of his heart.

Rose looked up at him uncertainly. There was a flicker of something in her sad eyes, something that looked like hope. He hoped it was hope. Hope for hope? What was wrong with him? He had a _much_ wider vocabulary than that. But right now he was utterly distracted. Rose was moving towards him and his fate was in her hands.

He stood still, tilting his head down as she reached a hand up to his chest in a movement that reminded him of when he had first regenerated into this body. Well, not _this_ body. This form? Appearance?

He waited in fear for the push. The test to prove that he was a real and solid presence. Just like she had done before. And then asked him to change back…

The push never came.

Instead, she pressed her hand flat against his chest, sliding it up ever so slightly to rest over his heart. There was no way she could miss the way it raced in nervousness or the way it practically leapt out of his rib cage in an effort to feel her touch. At least that hadn't changed, this body still craved her touch. If anything it was worse. He was burning for her, the other two times they had been in brief physical contact while aboard the TARDIS barely enough to sustain him.

He wasn't sure what he should do. He knew without a doubt what he _wanted_ to do. To take her in his arms and never let her go. But he didn't want to move too fast and scare her off. The decision was made for him as the TARDIS let out a low grinding sound.

She dropped her hand and turned towards the other Doctor.

He wrestled back the despair trying to engulf him. He wasn’t going to make the decision for her, but there was still hope.

This was Rose Tyler, and she was worth fighting for.

.....

Rose gently pulled out of his mind, but left their foreheads touching in order to ease the emptiness they were both feeling. They were sitting on the edge of the bed in some posh hotel room Jackie and Pete had booked for them. He didn’t care about that. All he cared about was the woman sitting in front of him, mirroring his position of one leg hanging off the edge of the bed and the other bent at the knee on the mattress so that their shins were touching. Or would be touching if it weren’t for the layers of clothing between them. He opened his eyes to find her staring at him with a warm expression. He smiled lazily in response, basking in the moment and letting her love wrap around him.

“You know,” she began, “I still find it funny that our outfits sort of matched that day.”

“I think it was destiny,” the Doctor replied softly.

She pulled back and wrinkled her brow. “I thought you didn’t believe in destiny.”

“I don’t. Well, not as a general principle.” He took both her hands in his, twining their fingers together. He turned his wrists from side to side, rocking their hands in the space between them. “But you have a way of always proving me wrong. Of proving that the impossible isn’t truly impossible.”

“He could see tears shine in her eyes, but she smiled brightly nonetheless. “Have to keep you on your toes…old man.” Her tongue poked out from between her teeth, teasing him in the best way possible.

“Oi!” he retorted, faking indignation and plopping their hands where he guessed her calf to be under the curtain of her white dress. “This body is technically younger than you, you know.”

“So is that why you had the nerve to wear trainers to our wedding?”

“You wore them too!” he insisted. He was 99.99 % sure she was only joking with him. But the .01 % chance that he had upset her made his heart seize in his chest.

“Yeah...but mum couldn’t see mine. Perks of wearing a more traditional dress.”

His eyes raked over her body, his mind supplying him with the details of what was hidden beneath satin and lace. She was gorgeous. Well, she always was in his humble (or not so humble) opinion. But right now, in her elegant yet simple white wedding gown (one thin strap falling teasingly off her shoulder) and her hair piled loosely on top her head, gentle curls framing her face...Right now, she was absolutely breath taking. He could feel the desire for her simmering in his veins. Oh, he had several plans for her. Some even with the dress still on.

He needed to ask her one thing before giving into to his baser urges.

“Did you want to see any more?” he asked, releasing one of her hands to tug on his ear.

“I thought that was everything?” Rose pulled the runaway strap back into place.

“No, not of...of that. That is to say, that was everything of-of what you had asked about. I meant, did you want to see anything else?”

“Like what?” she hedged.

“Of before. Before I found you again. Or…” He ran his hand haphazardly through his hair and looked away for an instant. “Before I ever met you.”

“Only when you’re ready.”

“I don’t have anything to hide from you.” She arched an eyebrow at the vehemence in his tone.

“That’s not what I meant.” She placed her hands over their joined ones still resting on her leg and squeezed gently. “You have hundreds of years worth of memories. And I’ll be happy to go through each one with you, but only if that’s what you want. And only when _you_ want.” Her words sank in slowly, her unquestioning acceptance of who he was at his core never ceasing to amaze him. She gave him a sly smile. “You could always just do what normal people do. _Talk_ to me about them.”

“But...you’re the one who wanted to do it this way?” Nine hundred years of time and space, and he didn’t think he would ever fully figure out Rose Tyler. But he knew he was going to spend the rest of his days learning everything he could.

“That’s true. Because I wanted to get to know you. This you.” She reached up to cup his face, trailing her thumb down his sideburn and sending shivers down his spine.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips softly to hers in a way he hoped conveyed the immense gratitude and love he felt in his heart. They kissed languidly for a moment, simply taking time to enjoy each other’s presence.

After all this time, the universe was finally smiling down on him. He was getting a chance to live a life he never thought he would, or even could. And with the one person he ever truly wanted it with. Probably the one person he ever would. Thoughts of the other him flitted through his mind. Instead of the usual jealousy or self loathing, he felt sorrow. Pity. A renewed sense of living life to the fullest and making each moment count, to live this one life with Rose both because it was all he wanted and also to do it for the him that never would, roared through him. He needed her. Now.

He pulled back and waggled his eyebrows, whispering in a husky voice, "I know another way we could have matching outfits.”


End file.
